


The Definition of a Year

by out_there



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-01
Updated: 2008-04-01
Packaged: 2017-10-15 04:52:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/out_there/pseuds/out_there
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's an anniversary (of sorts).</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Definition of a Year

**Author's Note:**

  * For [celli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/celli/gifts).



> Written for [](http://celli.livejournal.com/profile)[**celli**](http://celli.livejournal.com/) because she's a sweetheart.

The first thing to go missing was his measuring tape. Ianto only noticed because he was reattaching a button -- the latest casualty of Jack's libido -- and searching for thread in his small, but serviceable, sewing box.

It was a curiosity, but not a mystery. The only other person who spent time in his flat was Jack and while he had no idea precisely why Jack would take his measuring tape, he was fairly confident it would end up used in a way not intended by its manufacturers.

Ianto didn't notice the missing tie until the following Sunday, when he was ironing shirts and planning what to wear for the week. The missing tie was a wide burgundy silk and he hadn't worn it in a week, so it should be hanging up in his cupboard. But it wasn't there and it wasn't with the washing; he knew which spare tie he'd stashed away at the Hub so he knew it wasn't there either.

Jack was the most likely suspect again -- Ianto was reasonably sure Jack's motto was ' _Anything can be used to make you feel good, and let me show you how'_ \-- so Ianto didn't worry about it. And wouldn't be surprised if, the next time they were alone, Jack produced a tie and his measuring tape from out of nowhere.

Then his stopwatch went missing.

Pilfered right out of his pocket.

Ianto could take most of Jack's idiosyncrasies in stride, but there had to be limits. If he reached into his pocket expecting to find a stopwatch, it should be there. Admittedly, he'd only intended to use it to see how long it took one of the American tourists to say, "Oh, so you're from around here?" (they always asked that) but it was the principle of the thing.

After handing out brochures and maps, and herding the tourists out of the door, Ianto put the "Gone for Lunch" sign on the door and headed down to the Hub. He ignored Gwen and Tosh at their desks, Owen and Jack in the autopsy room, and went straight to Jack's office and the coat hanging up.

He checked the pockets -- it wasn't pick-pocketing when he owned the items -- but they were empty. Jack had put it somewhere else.

Knowing Jack and how spartan he kept his quarters, he wouldn't try to hide anything in his room. It would be somewhere in his office, on a shelf or in his desk. Nothing looked out of place on the shelves, so Ianto started opening desk drawers.

In the third drawer, next to a gold tin box, sat his missing items: one burgundy tie, one tightly curled yellow measuring tape and one old silver stopwatch.

"Ianto?"

Ianto looked up to find Jack standing on the other side of the desk. "I happen to like that stopwatch," Ianto said, placing his three items on the desktop and closing the drawer. A flash of relief passed across Jack's face as the drawer slid shut, then it quickly shifted into a hopeful grin.

"Look, about that..." Jack said, waving carelessly at the stolen goods. "It was just a whim."

"To see how much you could steal before I'd notice?"

"It wasn't stealing. It was--" Jack paused, clearly looking for the right word.

"Larceny?" Ianto suggested. "Reallocation of assets?"

"No," Jack said, smile frozen in place. "It was... a moment of sentimentality."

"It was sentimental thieving?" For a moment, Jack looked sheepish, as if he'd been caught doing something embarrassing. Given that Jack Harkness had no grasp of the concept of shame, Ianto was understandably intrigued. "There's one you're going to have to explain."

Jack wandered back over to the doorway, then closed -- and locked -- the office door. Leaning his back against the glass, Jack stared straight ahead. Whatever he was thinking about, it had nothing to do with the wall and shelves opposite him.

"Where I grew up, it was a tradition. Just one of those stupid things that everybody does, that doesn't mean anything but it's still something you do." There was a moment of silence and Jack's thoughts seemed focused on somewhere (or some time) far away. "It's an anniversary of sorts. Today. You observe it by claiming three items that make you think of the other person. It's silly, just an old habit of thinking. It doesn't mean anything."

"It means something." Ianto didn't need to know any more to understand that it was important to Jack. "Maybe it's only symbolic, but it means something."

Picking up the three items, Ianto walked over to Jack. He tugged one of Jack's hands forward and placed the measuring tape and the tie in his palm. Then he folded Jack's fingers closed over them. "Happy anniversary. I'll hold on to the stopwatch for safe-keeping," he added, slipping the stopwatch into his pocket.

He kept his hand over Jack's closed one, fingers loosely wrapped around Jack's fist, and watched his thumb brush the cool edge of leather on Jack's wrist-strap. He was caught by surprise when Jack's lips landed on his, soft and warm.

"We're at work..." Ianto murmured as Jack sucked on his lower lip. Then there was a swipe of tongue that made his breath catch.

"So?" Jack asked, then silenced Ianto's reply with his lips sealed against Ianto's and his tongue sliding inside Ianto's mouth. Jack slid his free hand around the arch of Ianto's back, pulling Ianto closer.

The sound of Ianto's moan was loud in his own ears, but it was enough to remind him of where they were. And who could see.

He took an unsteady step out of Jack's arms. "Work," he said, only sounding a little flustered. He checked that the stopwatch was still in his pocket.

Jack raised his eyebrows. "We could send the others home early."

"They haven't even had lunch yet." As charming as the idea might be, the reality was that if the three were sent home now, one of them would be back within the hour, to finish something nearly forgotten. Ianto had no desire to be seen naked by anyone but Jack.

"We could send them out to get lunch," Jack said hopefully, still physically blocking the doorway.

"Not even for an anniversary." Ianto stood -- out of arms reach -- and waited for Jack to move, which he did, very reluctantly. Pausing at the doorway, Ianto found himself thinking about the first time they'd slept together -- about Jack kissing him, pressing him up against that closed office door, hands solid and demanding, making Ianto feel more alive than he had in months -- and then did the calculations. "A one hundred and eighty-three day anniversary?"

"On some planets," Jack said, settling behind his desk, "that is a year."


End file.
